


Dark Entries

by Jokerteeth (Moraearty)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Cockrings, FINALLY wrote something longer than a page, Jim Gordon - Freeform, M/M, MUAHAHAHAHA, Oswald Cobblepot - Freeform, and fucking, and orgasm denial, eventually, gobblepot, handjobs, he's so fucking cobblehot, honk honk bitches, james gordon - Freeform, oh my!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3334700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moraearty/pseuds/Jokerteeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim felt the fingers twitch around his windpipe, a brief squeeze, a chance to protest. To say no. Even bound he knew he would be allowed to leave if he asked. He could read that much from the gentleness in the power being exerted over him. </p><p>A million thoughts fought for dominance in his head, a litany of assents and rebuffs, ranging from awkward to outright insulting  formed on the tip of his tongue, but only one word got out, strained and a little gruff but still very much audible.</p><p>“Please.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Entries

Jim had been drunk in a seedy, little bar called The Stacked Deck. 

He’d known it was careless, after all, the place had a no cop policy and a reputation that kept it that way, but Barbara was gone.  
The very idea of having to listen to Harvey tell him ‘there were other fish in the sea’ or other meaningless platitudes over a pint was not something he could stand.

He would rather get his head kicked in.

So he had sat there, drowning himself in hard liquor and cheap tobacco, as the criminal masses danced around him in an endless tango of murder and misdeeds. If he had been any more sloshed he may have joined them.

If he had been any less sloshed he may have noticed the men come up behind him.

He woke with a startled breath. He felt sluggish and heavy, like his body was made of cement. Every breath he took was as ragged as his thoughts felt. He could barely lift his head, so he focused on what he could do.

He inhaled, deep and forceful. The air tasted like sawdust and smelled like mildew. He immediately began coughing. Each spasm of his throat rocking him forward, but still he held fast.

He felt the metal dig into his wrists, the shiny glint of what little light there was bounced off the cuffs and burst forth through the haze of his vision like a beacon of captivity. 

He realized he was shackled, honest to god shackled, to a large, wooden chair.

**Who the fuck still does that?**

"Hello, James."

**Oswald.**

He could hear the other man’s grin more than he could see it and it pissed him right off.

 

“When I get loose I’m going put a bullet through your good leg, give you a matching set, ‘old friend‘.” He spat angrily at Oswald. At least he hoped he did. He vision was still a little blurry. As far as he could see there were two Cobblepot shaped blobs. He directed his gaze at the one that looked the most smug. 

"Tsk tsk tsk, manners, James! I would expect kinder words from a man I just rescued."

The feeling of bewilderment at such a bold claim did wonders for Jim’s vision, a small blessing because the glare he sent in response was much more intimidating when he could see who he was looking at. He pointedly glanced at his restraints and raised an inquiring eyebrow at Oswald.

"Aw, well certain precautions had to be taken. You were quite…pugnacious." Oswald finished, cocking his head in thought, a small, private smile hidden behind his words.

Jim wrinkled his nose, “Who the hell even says pugnacious?”

"Who gets drunk in a den full of ruffians with their police badge still on?" Oswald countered.

Jim glanced down to his chest. Specks of blood decorated his badge.

"Point taken." Jim said, the anger draining out of him as the drugs slowly wore off and his head began to pound.

"I am aware of your current circumstances, James. Drinking will not resolve them. You should know that, what with having lived with Barbara." Oswald stated indelicately.

Jim did his damnedest not to shout.

"Don’t you dare, Oswald Cobblepot.” He growled. “Don’t even think you can kidnap me and tell me how to live my life. That’s really why you’ve tied me down, isn’t it. So you can stand there and deliver your self-righteous judgments about me and my fiancé without the chance of getting the shit kicked out of you? Well, well done, you Son. Of. A. Bitch."

"You’ll kindly leave my mother out of this." Oswald had the gall to look affronted.

"Oh don’t even-"

"She cheated on you, James. She’s gone." Oswald interrupted quietly, his face solemn as he spoke. "She doesn’t love you." 

The rage Jim felt could not be expressed at any volume short of outright yelling, headache be damned.

"How would you know that?! You‘re a goddamned sociopath at best, Oswald, and I am being VERY generous when I say that! You can’t love. You don’t even know what it feels like, and you never will, so don’t even try to stand there and tell me about something you can only feel second-hand through your sick and sadistic manipulations!”

 

The last of Jim’s anger echoed around them before ebbing into the moldy, damp warehouse walls. The steady drip-drip-drip of a leaking pipe counted out the seconds of silence that followed. 

Oswald regarded Jim as he stalked forward slowly, awkward gait making him no less graceful in his predatory advance.

"I can own," Oswald stated as he stopped directly in front of Jim. For once, he towered over the other man. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere that left Jim breathless.

"It’s not the same," Jim rasped, throat suddenly parched as Oswald’s hand came up and cupped his chin, thumb tracing along Jim’s bottom lip. Green eyes following the movement as if it were the most enthralling thing in the world. 

 

There was something very wrong here, he knew what it was, and he refused to voice it. If he voiced it, it might be real. 

He swallowed dryly, watching Oswald’s eyes catch the movement of his adam’s-apple before flicking back to his mouth. 

He felt pinned. Not by the cuffs around his wrists, not by the hand holding his face, not even by fear, but by a sudden overwhelming desire. 

The firm press of thumb parted his lips briefly before retreating at the warm gasp it provoked. 

"It is with you." Oswald purred as his gaze tore itself away from plush lips and met the defiant blue of the detective’s eyes being slowly eclipsed by a hungry black.

It was all the consent he needed.

His hand slid down, fingers gently tracing along the stubbled slope of Jim's jaw before resting round his throat. 

Jim felt the fingers twitch around his windpipe, a brief squeeze, a chance to protest. To say no. Even bound he knew he would be allowed to leave if he asked. He could read that much from the gentleness in the power being exerted over him. 

A million thoughts fought for dominance in his head, a litany of assents and rebuffs, ranging from awkward to outright insulting formed on the tip of his tongue, but only one word got out, strained and a little gruff but still very much audible.

“Please.”

He bore his neck to Oswald like a bitch in heat and reveled in the gentle intake of surprise he got for it.

He felt the crescents of dirty fingernails dig into his flesh and he moaned; low and deep, a little exaggerated, but not entirely fake. 

It got Oswald to yank Jim’s pants down quick enough. The button sent flying off in the chaos as a hand descended upon his cock in a flurry of clever fingers and dry friction. 

The first few pumps making his teeth grind and his hips shudder.

“Jesus, Oswald,” he grunted. “I’ve heard of cops getting whacked off, but I doubt this is what they were talking about.” 

The distaste at such a horrible pun felt glorious as Oswald’s fist tightened around his shaft, his strokes becoming aggressive as he spoke. 

“If you’re able to form coherent sentences, much less make such atrocious witticisms, then I’m obviously doing something incorrect. Allow me to amend that.” 

The sudden warm, wet suction of Oswald’s mouth introduced itself as his cock was swallowed down in one impatient go. There was zero finesse, hardly any foreplay, just a sudden, cloying desperation. The need to fuck up into stretched lips and come across porcelain skin at the forefront of Jim‘s mind.

It was utterly perfect.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” 

A chastising tongue jabbed into the slit of his head roughly before going back to its swirling ministrations. 

“F-Fuck!” 

The sight below made his cock twitch against the inside of Oswald’s hallowed cheeks as the man looked up between his legs, delight at having Jim a stuttering, writhing mess beneath him palpable as he hummed his approval. 

**The little shit.**

His arms may have been restrained, but he had no trouble when it came to pumping his hips, the effect making Oswald gag and tear, but not pull off. 

They stayed like that, Jim spearing the back of Oswald’s throat as he panted and cursed and Oswald letting him as tears streamed down his face and drool dribbled down his chin. 

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” He huffed, pushing his hips up until his balls just managed to rest against Oswald’s soaked chin. 

He held himself there, shoulders digging painfully into the back of the chair, feet planted firmly into the ground, and eyes challenging Oswald to pull away. 

Neither man moved.

“Does your Don tell you to suck him off like this?” Jim taunted.

Oswald peered through watery, bloodshot eyes, breathing hard through his nose as he gagged and choked but didn’t draw back an inch. 

“I bet you beg him to.” 

Batting his eyelashes like a virgin on their first date instead of a mobster kneeling on cold, hard cement with a cop’s dick in his mouth, Oswald managed to sink down impossibly further and swallow around the head. 

Jim refused to admit he was impressed. 

The fact that he felt like the air had been quite literally sucked out of him had nothing to do with it.

“Close.” Jim ground out, only to be met with the icy shock of cold air. 

The resulting groan born from pure outrage at the sudden halt of such a magnificently dirty blowjob was possibly the most pitiful noise to ever escape his mouth. 

Oswald stood and produced a crisp, white handkerchief from the inside of his jacket and wiped his mouth with the refined efficiency of a bygone era before folding it into a tight line, eyes on Jim’s the entire time. 

“Hold still, darling.” He murmured as he straddled Jim’s lap, still fully clothed much to Jim’s chagrin. 

Nevertheless, Jim tried in vain to grind up against the rough fabric of Oswald’s trousers as he argued.  
“I’m not your d-umph!”

The handkerchief-turned-gag was positioned firmly in his mouth, cutting into his cheeks as it was bound tightly around his head with a speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 

“You’re much more impertinent than I imagined, James,” Oswald chuckled hoarsely. “We’ll have to work on that.”

He suddenly brandished a knife from the sleeve of his jacket with enough flourish to make any magician proud. 

“Don’t worry, **darling** , I have no desire to kill you,” He said as he traced the knife’s edge along Jim’s shirt collar before slipping it between the hems, popping buttons as he went further and further down.  
Jim didn’t even flinch as the cold metal brushed his skin.

“But remember this as you try to fulfill all those valiant endeavors you promised Gotham the moment you accepted that badge,” another knife seemingly produced from the very air itself was against his throat so fast it was frightening. 

Oswald leaned forward slowly, until his lips brushed against the shell of Jim’s ear. Breath ghosted across his flesh, raising goose bumps in its wake as he whispered like the serpent in the garden.

“I could.” 

If Jim were able to speak, to yell, to even whisper, he’s not entirely sure what he would have said. 

So he did the only thing he could do as Oswald pulled back to search his face for any fearful reflections to assuage his thirst for dominance.

Jim slowly and deliberately raised his hips, eyes defiant as ever, and dragged his dripping, hard cock against Oswald’s clothed erection. 

The sigh it elicited was worth all the manipulative bullshit in the world.

The pressure of the blade against Jim’s neck disappeared as quickly as it came, the sharp resounding clatter of metal broke the tension as thin lips and sharp teeth roughly scraped down the side of his neck and sank into his shoulder.

Oswald moaned into his skin as Jim howled into the gag.  
A kiss was pressed remorsefully against the tortured flesh, but Jim still felt the smile behind it.

Jim wanted to call him an ass, but settled for bucking him onto the floor.

“Apologies, James.” He wasn’t even trying to hide his grin now, the bastard. “You‘re rather enticing when you look like you‘ve been victimized. ”

He stood and dusted himself off, still fucking smirking like the cat that got the cream, and began unbuttoning his waste-coat.  
Each button undone felt like an exercise of Jim’s patience. The vest fell away only to expose more buttons and Jim thought he could die right there of pure, unadulterated frustration. 

When Oswald’s fingers clasped the end of his zipper and began its descent southward Jim couldn’t help the shout of FINALLY that came out him but, of course, the gag rendered it into a very eloquent: “IANALLY!”

Oswald‘s smirk was infinite.

“Anally? Why James, the thought hadn’t even occurred.”

Jim did not hear him. 

His full attention was captured by the skin being revealed to him, bit by torturous bit, as Oswald’s trousers fell open and his shirt parted like stage curtains. 

Oswald wasn’t wearing underwear.

The trail of raven-hair contrasted the bone-white of Oswald’s skin in a way that reminded Jim of bare trees against a wintry landscape.  
Were he a poet he would write reams upon reams about this moment. 

The shallow dip of Oswald’s navel, the faint dusting of freckles that lay across the jut of his hips like a pale galaxy, the pearlescent drop of pre-come on the proud head of his cock like morning dew.  
There simply wasn‘t enough paper in the world. 

He closed his eyes and prayed that Oswald had not seen the desire that burned through him then.  
Before it was just lust.  
A want that could be fulfilled through any means, and up until now, Jim was sure that’s what this was. A transgression that could be filed away under brokenhearted mistakes and momentary insanity. A quick thrill to get his adrenaline going and keep his depression at bay. 

Now it was an ache.  
An all consuming need to be owned, used, and degraded by this glorious being of unholy purpose, again and again until there was nothing left of him. 

A sound erupted from Jim that could not be mistaken for anything other than a plea. 

Oswald feigned ignorance beautifully. 

The last clink of the suspender’s undoing brought Jim out of his wanton stupor. The swish of fabric against skin as Oswald gently, almost hesitantly, lowered his pants was a backdrop to the thundering of Jim’s own heartbeat.  
There was a vulnerability in being naked, an intimacy that Jim wasn’t ready to feel in Oswald’s presence. He was almost glad when he realized Oswald had no intention of taking off his suit, but not so glad when the pants stopped lowering just above his knees. The pink, jagged edges of fresh scars peeking just above his left leg tugged at his inherent curiosity. 

When he looked back to Oswald’s face he saw something there he wish he hadn’t. A tenderness a man like him shouldn’t possess, all soft eyes and gentle smile. He blinked and just as quickly as the look was there, it was gone, the old mask of immeasurable smugness back in place.

“I’m going to afford you the use of one hand, James. You are not to touch me unless stated otherwise, understood?”

Jim immediately hated this rule but nodded regardless. 

“Good. I’m also going to remove your gag, any insolence on your part or unauthorized touching will result in severe consequences, understood?”

Again Jim nodded, hating this as well.

The moment the gag was off he spit the taste of old cotton and stale saliva onto the ground while Oswald undid the cuff round his left wrist.

“The next time we do this you’re bringing a proper gag, not a goddamned hanky.” Jim croaked, clenching and unclenching his fist, working the needles and pins out.

“I don’t know what I like more about that statement, the fact that you want me to purchase you a gag or that you’re under the impression there’s going to be a next time.”

Jim cocked an eyebrow his way, “Well isn’t there?”

Oswald pretended to contemplate this for a moment.  
“Depends on how well you behave. Based off what I’ve observed so far I’m leaning towards no.”

“Yeah, well, you can’t kidnap a guy and expect that it’s going to be all sunshine and submission. And don‘t even blame me for tha-”

“Silence.” 

Jim’s jaw shut so fast his teeth clacked. Oswald’s face gave every sign of indifference, but his cock twitched much to Jim’s satisfaction. 

Oswald managed to shuffle backwards awkwardly until he was nearly out of reach.

He tilted his head as if in thought, ever the dramatic one, before speaking.

“Stroke me.”

Jim wasn’t exactly experienced in jacking off other men, but he knew that the angle was wrong, his dominant hand was not in play, and Oswald was clearly standing nearly out of reach just to spite him. It didn’t stop him from trying his damnedest. 

He leaned forward slowly, and let the tips of his fingers skim the shallow V of his abdomen before working their way down through the trail of coarse hair. He was gentle as he made his way further and further down before taking hold of the Oswald’s shaft roughly.

The gasp above and the jolt of muscle against his palm confirmed his unvoiced theories. 

Oswald, even in the most dominant position, liked to be manhandled. 

The skin was flushed and hot in his hand, the weight of it against his palm, hell, even the texture was simply glorious in it’s unfamiliarity. 

Each tug of flesh brought with it an endless array of exquisite moans and delightful grunts, each one making Jim heady with power.

**I wonder what you taste like.**

As soon as the question flitted into his mind, his body was in action. 

He moved so swiftly Oswald didn’t have time to do anything but stumble as Jim gripped the narrow bone of Oswald’s hip and dragged him forward. 

Jim’s mouth was around him by the time he managed to regain his footing. He nearly lost it again as insistent lips engulfed his head, and demanding tongue licked its way into his slit, pillaging all it found there. 

The taste of salt flooded Jim’s palate before his head was wrenched away. He regretted nothing. 

Jim heard the slap before he felt the sting of it. All hard knuckles and sharp nails leaving busted capillaries and a split lip in its wake. 

Fingers dug painfully into his cheeks as Oswald yanked his face up to meet his gaze. They were now a hairsbreadth apart. Oswald’s normally pallid complexion was flushed, his breathing erratic, and Jim now understood the term ‘bitchface’ with perfect clarity. 

“Don’t take liberties.” 

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was kissing Jim hard and angrily. Sharp teeth caught him by the lip as a merciless tongue left him a groaning, writhing mess with each torturous lap at his broken skin. 

He felt a hand go to his groin, something foreign tightening around him, but he couldn’t look down for the other hand holding him in place and the punishing mouth that kept him there. 

Finally he was released. 

Oswald’s lips were red with his blood and it shouldn’t have made him throb, but considering how far he’d gone off the beaten path it hardly tripped him up. 

He chanced a look down. 

His newfound blood kink my not have thrown him, but the black cock ring that seemed to grow tighter with each passing second certainly did. 

“I told you there would be consequences, James, and now you’re about to understand exactly what they entail.” 

**Shit.**

**Author's Note:**

> I welcome criticism but reserve the right to criticize you for it.


End file.
